


Sacrifice

by interlude



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avengers Endgame inspired, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interlude/pseuds/interlude
Summary: Echo would do anything for her family and the man that she loves.AKA a rewrite of THAT ENDGAME SCENE with Becho because someone mentioned it and I couldn't let the idea go.





	Sacrifice

Echo can’t remember having a family before she had them. There had been duty and loyalty – a people, even, and a purpose – but never family. She’d once thought herself incapable of it. The hands that had shaped her in their image had trimmed her of anything they’d deemed weeds – and love and family had been the most damning weeds of all.

And yet somehow, she’d found them anyways. She’d let the weeds grow untamed until they consumed her and birthed something new and alive in her.

She loves all of them more than she loves herself – and Bellamy, the man who had seen something worth saving in her and reached out his hand in offering rather than violence, she loves most of all. She loves his smile and the way it crinkles the skin of his cheeks. She loves the shape of his eyes and the way they shine. She loves the well-worn skin of his hands and the softness of his heart. 

Bellamy Blake is a treasure the world cannot lose. So when the stonekeeper tells them there must be a sacrifice, there isn’t a single drop of doubt in her mind of what she must do. 

“So I guess we know who it needs to be,” Bellamy says, and the truth of his words sinks heavy in her soul, and she grounds herself again in purpose and certainty. She has never been more scared – but she has never been more sure, either. 

“I guess so,” she says, taking in his features. She tries to capture his face in her mind, so that she can hold it with her the entire way down, never forgetting a detail for a second. Her eyes trace his jaw, his eyebrows, the shape of his nose. She memorizes his hair, remembers the feeling of carding her fingers through it on lazy nights. She pulls his hands into her own and savors the roughness of them, the bumps and dips of scars and years.

Bellamy squeezes her hands back gently, then looks down at them, and she watches the realization come over his face. When he looks back up at her, his brow is furrowed and his beautiful eyes troubled. “I’m starting to think we mean other people.” 

“You’re a fool if you think I’m letting you over that cliff, Bellamy,” she insists, sharp as the sword at her side.

“Echo,” he says, voice trembling under the weight of fear and anger, “There’s no way I’m letting _you_ do it.” 

She drops his hands so she can grab his face, stroke her thumbs across his cheeks, smoothing over his scratchy beard. Then she pulls him close to her and kisses him forcefully, as if she can push every last drop of love and affection into it – as if when she’s gone, the bruise of her lips could linger there forever. 

He surprises her when he pushes her backwards into the dirt. For the briefest moment, she lays there startled, struck still with shock as she watches him sprint towards the cliff’s edge, watches his foot catch the edge and push, watches him leap out into open air.

And then she moves.

She doesn’t think. She doesn’t have the time. Luckily, her body is trained for moments like this, and it moves like a well-oiled machine as she runs, as she takes her bow in hand and selects the arrow she needs, as she leaps after him into the open air, as she fires a line back into the cliffside to anchor herself and then drops the bow to grab onto Bellamy, wrap her arms tight around him.

They jerk to a halt, slamming into the side of the cliff, and Echo takes advantage of Bellamy’s shock to tie the line holding them tightly around his waist and knot it securely. He looks at it in with grim understanding, tugging at it wildly, but her knot holds tight. And it will until he cuts it – they both know it.

When he looks at her his eyes are glistening with tears. There are stars in them. It’s the most beautiful thing she could choose as the last thing she sees, and she feels content with it. Her family will live. Bellamy will live. She would die a thousand deaths to make that true.

“Echo, no,” he pleads. “Please, no." 

“I love you,” she tells him, pouring every ‘I love you’ she’ll never have again into it. 

She pulls her knife free and cuts the line secured at her hip, but she only falls the briefest distance before she’s jerked to a halt again, Bellamy’s hand around hers. His fingers dig into the skin of her wrist, bruising and rough. 

Echo smiles up at him. “It’s okay." He shakes his head wildly and tries to pull her up but gravity is determined to claim her and it fights back. “Let me go.”

She pushes herself away from him, kicking off the wall to gain traction. Gravity wins. Her hand slips free.

She keeps the picture of his face in her mind the entire way down. 


End file.
